NO GREATER LOVE THAN THIS!

There are teddy bears… and high school rings… and old photographs that mamas bring.  There’s combat boots that he used to wear… when he was sent over there. There’s cigarettes and there’s cans of beer and notes that say “I miss you dear.” And children who don’t say anything at all/ There’s purple hearts  and packs of gum- fatherless daughters and fatherless sons… and there’s 50,000 names carved in the wall/ They come from all across this land… in pickups trucks and mini vans, searching for a boy from long ago. They scan the wall and find his name. The teardrops fall like pouring rain and silently they leave a gift and go/ There’s stars of David and rosary beads and crucifixion figurines and flowers of all colors… large and small.  There’s a Boy Scout badge and a merit pin- little American flags waving in the wind…. and there’s 50,000 names in the wall. Lyrics from a song by George Jones... to which I can only say "amen." Many of us have stood before them in awe…. because they stand for men and women who died for our freedom. 

When Sherry and I visited the Viet Nam Memorial, we walked on sacred ground. We were surrounded by people, but we walked in silence. Everyone did, and their eyes teared up as they read one name and then another. The Viet Nam Memorial is sacred, and so are the crosses that fill Flanders Fields... in memory of those who died in the war that was supposed to end all wars. Some of you will recognize the poem that John McCrae wrote in tribute to a dear friend who lies beneath one of its crosses. He wrote it in 1915 and it goes like this: In Flanders Fields the poppies blow beneath the crosses, row on row, that mark our place, and in the sky… the larks, still bravely singing, fly/ We are dead... short days ago. We lived, felt dawn, saw sunsets glow, loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders fields/ Take up our quarrel with the foe, to you with failing hands we throw. The torch be yours and hold it high/ If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep, though poppies grow… in Flanders fields.  

My father flew a transport plane in WW2, to the front lines and back, and he took part in the liberation of prisoners from Hitler's concentration centers. My uncles, Delmer and Louis, took part in the war as well. They made it home alive, but 400,000 died in a war that still didn't end all wars- my father’s co-pilot, Kenny, included, and perhaps someone in your family, among them. There graves fill cemeteries throughout our land-  and each one must be remembered because there is no greater love than to lay one’s life down and no greater honor than simply being remembered. Today, we are invited to remember. It is a day when we should slow down and let the voices of those who really did love freedom more than life... speak to us. From the first young man who died in our War of Independence to the next young soldier who will die in a foreign land, we have been blessed to walk among seemingly ordinary people who have the stuff of heroes on the inside. They have stared evil in the face. They have carried the fight to those who would take our lives. They've taken the narrow road, knowing that life is not worth the living if people can't be free. They were Christians, Jews, Muslims, and nothing at all; but they all loved honor and freedom more than life ... and we are called to remember them this weekend! I'm not against cookouts and fun in the sun. Lord knows that such moments give us joy and hold our communities together, but in the midst of the good times, we ought to embrace those who laid down their lives for us... because there is no greater love than this.

But as Christians, we are also called to remember the One who laid down his life for us! In a far away place, almost exactly 2000 years ago, a Jew hung on a Roman cross... and died to set us free from the bondage to self and sin. Despite the warnings that the prophets gave, we were never able to love God with all of our hearts or love our neighbors as ourselves. So God's Son, considering divinity as something not worth clinging to, emptied himself of it, came down to earth, and lived among us. He taught about God's love, healed the sick, and challenged practices that were punitive and unjust. He was full of beauty and grace, but still, we didn't listen. So, he paid for our sins himself and remembered a man who was being crucified next to him. Then he rose in victory over death and appeared to Mary and the others, commissioning them to go and tell the "good news" to men and women in every nation. He told his disciples that the Holy Spirit would empower them and help them "remember" what he had said and done. He also instituted the Lord's Supper, saying, "This is my body; take, eat, in remembrance of me," and concerning the cup, "whenever you drink it, do this in remembrance of me."

Remembering is an empowering thing. It keeps us connected and aware of who and whose we are. Remembering is an important thing... but it is NOT as important as living AS IF we remember, which may be why Jesus said, "those who love me keep my word." Those who know me will follow me. Those who love me will keep my words. They will take the same path that I have taken, They will mourn for a broken world, forgive 70 x 7, feed those who need to be fed, make praying a way of life, and lay down their lives for me. When it comes to those whom we love and admire, remembering is more of an embrace than a passing thought and when it comes to the One whom we call Lord, remembering is not a thought at all. It is a way of life. Amen!